


Common Goal

by DinkyElf



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2018-10-11 11:34:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10463985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinkyElf/pseuds/DinkyElf
Summary: Set after COE.. possibly ongoing fic





	1. Don't Look Back in Anger

The audience loved the blood and the brand.  Rock and Roll can really the change the world.  To use a cliché: the headlines write themselves. 

DEATH BEATS IN BACKYARD

An unnamed man was killed in a high-speed collision at rock stars’ private Well Hill estate. Police yesterday were called to the grounds of a Kentish Mansion belonging to infamous musician Jonny Rokeby. 

 

A spokesperson for Kent Police PC Ashley Finch stated: “We can confirm that police and ambulance were called to a fatal incident at a private estate at 23.09 last night (Thursday 16th September).  The victim was a male in their late 20’s.  We cannot give any further information at this point until the next-of-kin have been informed.  No other individuals were injured in this event.  We are currently investigating the incident.  This is currently treating the incident as unexplained and would like to appeal to the public for any information relating to a red Alfa Romeo spyder seen around Crockenhill yesterday evening between 22:00-23:00”.  

 

The public are left wondering what could have occurred.  An eyewitness whom wished to remain anonymous stated that the victim was seen arguing with Mr Rokeby prior to his death.  It is confirmed that the Deadbeats singer was resident at the time of the incident and according to publicist statement “is helping the police with their enquires”.  Also resident at the Rockstar’s home were multiple staff including security and family members.

 

Mr Rokeby who is known to have a fractious relationship with the media, has had numerous run-ins with both police and paparazzi in his four decades in the spotlight.  Dwindling sales of The Deadbeats most recent album “It Couldn’t Happen to a Nicer Gal” and a reduced number of stadium dates are rumoured to have ignited issues in the bands current line-up.

 

It seems that wealth can no longer protect you from scrutiny.  Mr Rokeby and his associates have been noticeably absent from social media since the event.  This includes son Al, who has been courting twitter of late in his latest business venture, with the help of his father’s multitude of fans.

 

Early indications show the death of a young man may lead more negative attention to Ol’ Jonny,  who has suffered recently with the unwanted attention arising from unofficial workings of his eldest son in the Shacklewell Ripper case. Illegitimate offspring Cameron Strike, however may be Mr Rokeby’s last line of defence.  The Metropolitan Police failed to press charges against the private detective and all eyes will be on the Rokeby clan as the events of this tragic incident is unwrapped.


	2. Do Not Disturb

The office on Denmark street was quiet, the kettle was cold and the occupant of the attic flat was snoring soundly above.  Strike had been working solid and steadily for the last months, since the Shacklewell Ripper had broken his nose (again).  Unfortunately, the case cast a long shadow.  It had been the third high profile investigation and nearly cost Robin her life.  Showing up the Met cost Strike dearly, it is hard to work the long lens when the world knows your face.  It was the first night in memory Strike had got to bed before midnight.  The ‘do not disturb’ function on his new phone was genius. No calls except the select emergency and favourite contacts.  Therefore, more sleep banked for the benefit of the business.

_Thunk, Thunk, Thunk_

“Fuck” said Strike as he rolled out of bed crashing to the floor.  It was 2AM. One of the benefits of living above the office was the lack of neighbours and only a handful of people had entered the bed-sit.  _How the fuck did people get up the fucking stairs._  Nobody he knew would bang on the door like that.  Not if they didn’t want to meet his boxing arm _._

_Thunk Thunk Thunk._

“Hold on, Im fucking coming”.  The thought crossed his mind, what has Carver done now?, Probably got the Met at the door, trying to fit him up for something.  He grabbed his phone and cigarettes off the bedside table and lit-up.  Nah, he’d have been warned.  Wait, fifteen missed calls, no ID. That could be police.  Wasn’t Lucy thankfully, wasn’t Wardle hopefully and wasn’t Robin.  They would have gone through.  As Strike hopped and smoked across to the door, dread increased exponentially.  Never in his career either as a civilian or RMP had a knock like that spelt good news.  However, he was normally the one that knocked. “Im fucking coming” _THUNK----_

The spy hole in the door (aptly named) had always seemed superfluous, nobody visited, he lived in the attic, there were three flights of stairs, an intercom and a locked street-level entrance.  The landlord facing the prospect of losing other commercial had insisted after the most recent attempt on Strikes life.  Why had they not buzzed up first and how had they got this far before he awoke?   There was a large Afro-Caribbean man in a black two-piece suit, white shirt and tie.  Uniforms come in many variations.  Detective skills aside, Strike recognised this one.  No self-respecting CID or Met officer would be this well-attired.  It was the ear-piece that gave it away.  Strike himself had been mistaken for private security several times.  Grinning, in spite of himself, he exhaled remembering the last glorious time.  This would be the last time he smiled for a while.  As following the security guard entered Jonny Fuckin’ Rokeby.

____________________________________________________________________________________

Bizarrely, Strike had never held any animosity towards his father.  It was all apathy. Where teenage angst was common, the sense of paternal abandonment which Lucy had channelled, Cormaron had none.  Leda required all his attention as a child, the caregiver role had reversed but remained unacknowledged.  Unfortunately, the progeny of the famous attracted attention.  Especially in today’s world of Google and Wikipedia they were but a click away. 

When Strike had asked for the loan he was merely accessing a resource which was unrelated to a bank.  He had paid back the loan, the interest and was more than happy to resume his apathetic existence.

But then on a peaceful day in September entered his father.  Holy hell, what did he want?

“Hey, son” said Rokeby as he followed his bodyguard into the bedsit.  Strike hopped back to the breakfast stool and sat down.  “You may as well come in” sighed Strike, stubbing out the cigarette. “How can I help?” trying to cut off the bullshit.  He wanted to ask: _why the fuck are you here and how did you get in? Don’t you have better people you could pay? Could this not wait till tomorrow?_   The latter two was obvious, the former could wait. 

A second glance at the rocker, showed tear tracts.  Unexpectedly, Strike thawed simultaneously drawing out a notepad and offered his father a cigarette.  Taking a deep breath “Thanks” replied Rokeby “We don’t have a lot of time before the press get hold of this.  I’m going to have to be blunt. Al’s missing and his car is gone.  His security guard was killed.  The house is a fucking crime scene.  blues and twos all over. We don’t know what happened yet.  Or if you’re safe”.


	3. Entry Requirements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been a long time coming. I always knew what I wanted to do but haven't had the time to sit down and write it. So I am sorry to have left a half-written fic since April! I own nothing but I hope you like!   
> Also alot of formatting gremlins.. i have no idea what I am doing!   
> Anyway Enjoy!

The split had at least been amicable, in the end it was even friendly.  The choice to act is sometimes easier than the choice not to act.  Or at least that was the case for some people.  Robin had found that her life had formed a pattern of inaction until she had quite literally bumped into a private detective.  Her world had been turned on its head.  Or righted, depending on who you spoke to.   That had been what had lead her here, sat on her bed in Masham staring at her computer at 2AM trying to tick all the boxes.

* * *

  **Are you between the ages of 18-57 on application?**

_Yes: please see above -  DOB 09/10/1984_

**Have lived in the UK for the last three years?**

_Yes_

**Do you have indefinite leave to remain and work in the UK?**

_N/A – British National_

**No tattoos on the hands and face are allowed.**

_I have no tattoos or piercings visible on the face or hands._

This reminded Robin of her surveillance training.  She had envied the women with bright and luminescent hair and the ability to exhibit confident unconformity however she had had it drummed into her that to stand out in any way was dangerous when tracking people, places and things.

  **No use of illegal drugs**

_I have never used any illegal or recreational drugs._

**Fit for duty: Please state if you currently or have previously suffered from any of the following medical conditions (if so please see attached notes and give further details):**

Asthma _: No_

Diabetes: _No_

Epilepsy _: No_  

Dyslexia: _No_

Severe allergies: ( ~~Dickheads, rapists, child murders)~~ _none known_ ~~~~

Any type of blood clotting disorder: _No_

Mental health conditions (e.g. Stress, anxiety or depression)

_~~No~~ , Yes have previously be treated for anxiety and depression, medication free since July 2007._

(From Additional Notes) You will be individually assessed. These roles are front-line and public facing, requiring the ability to deal with the public in a wide range of situations. It is recommended that you have been well, without medication, for at least 6 months before you apply.

Robin thought that these questions were normally asked confidentially.  Lying was not in her nature and she knew from experience this was a sackable offence to not disclose these things.  She hated it.  She was better.

 **Have you received a GCSE grade C or** **above in English language and be fluent in the written and spoken word?**

_I received an A* in English Language as well as ten additional GCSEs graded A*-A.  I also achieved four A-levels (A grades) in Psychology, Philosophy, English Literature and English Language._

**You must be working towards or have achieved a 2:1 at undergraduate degree level or non-UK equivalent**

_I have recently begun towards a degree in Criminology and Psychology with the Open University.  I have received high marks on all the modules I have undertaken._

This was what had stopped her.  She had no degree. She could no longer go where she wanted to go.  It had been taken from her and she was taking her life back. She had done it on a whim.  After the confrontations with Brockbank and Strike when all seemed lost. She needed something which was her own. The wedding wasn’t going to be enough although she would never admit that.  One of the few benefits of being unemployed in Britain is the OU. She had had nothing to lose.  The modules were low cost (even if you did have to pay) and her subject was ‘mainstream’ enough to be covered by the OU.  So she had applied two days before the wedding and started her course less than a week later.  She hadn’t told Matthew.

**CPK Certificate**

**_I_ ** _am commencing the Certificate in Knowledge of Policing in October 2012.  I have previous accredited qualifications (Level 4 IQ) in Surveillance and Counter-Surveillance from Intel Security._

This was not something which Robin could conceal from her family.  She was looking forward to it, she needed to know how things worked.  Learn the politics.  Even if she never became a full-fledged detective she could justify the decision and the expense.  She could also do the course while living at home. 

  **Have you lived in London for 3 of the last 6 years?**

_I have been living in Clapham London since April 2010.  Prior to this I have visited frequently.  Whilst working for Temporary Solutions, I completed a number of jobs around the city and I am very well acquainted with different areas of the city._

Robin knew would never know the city as well as a native, like Strike did.  She hated London but loved it as well.  It had never been her home but it had meant her freedom.  She felt a bit like a homing pigeon, she hadn’t met her people yet.  Apart from one.  She had been living in London for two and a half years.  When/ if she completed the CPK that would take her to three years she would fly south.

**Have you applied to any other Police services in the last 2 years?**

_No_

**Please state any connections you have with the London Metropolitan police employees within management or human resources.**

_I was advised to apply for this post by DI Wardle, I have worked with a number police officers since I have been living in London._

Bugger HR!  Robin chuckled quietly stretching out in her bed.  She didn’t think her application would be accepted.  But if you don’t try you never know and inaction was no longer an option. 

Except

Except.  She didn’t want to be a police officer.  She wanted freedom.  She wanted the freedom of working with Cormoran. 

This was their compromise. More haste, Less speed.

* * *

 

 

Robin looked down at her phone, it was now nearly 3AM.  BBC NEWS Alert ‘Dramatic Scene at Deadbeat’s mansion’.  Shit shit shit. She opened the message.  “Police helicopter has been seen in the the grounds of a Kentish Mansion belonging to infamous musician Jonny Rokeby with alleged fatalities and a man hunt is in progress” that was all that it said.  Followed by the customary: **_This is a breaking new story more information will be updated as soon as possible._**

 

She could do nothing she was miles away from him.  She didn’t even know if he would want to hear from her.  Running down stairs and grabbing the keys to the Land Rover, she was careful to miss the creaking steps to avoid waking her parents.  She turned the TV onto BBC News 24.  Robin hesitated a nanosecond and rang Corm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The job requirements are just some of the literal ones to apply for the London Metropolitan Police. I have rephrased some of them and while Robin's answers are obvs. fictously fictious I own nothing!
> 
> FYI I also discovered that an 11-day residential surveillance course costs £2314.80 .. there are of course other options but if Strike wanted to send her on the best :)


End file.
